


The One Where Special Sucks A Dick

by catacombsaint



Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, Catboys, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 08:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catacombsaint/pseuds/catacombsaint
Summary: Papa calls Special into his office to ask him for a favor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic for anything ever OAO!! 
> 
> this all takes place in my little headcanon-slash-au-thing for Ghost, where the church is home to hundreds of ghouls, and the ghouls are a lot less human. it would take me forever to explain the full concept here but i post about it on my tumblr a lot at catacombsaint.tumblr.com
> 
> anyway thanks for reading lmao enjoy

"Ghoul."

Sister Imperator jabbed the stick-end of a broom up at the snoozing ghoul, perched in the sill of a high window. She made a display of clearing her throat.

"Ghoul."

No response. She could swear she saw the disrespectful creature side-eye her before he rolled over, lazily swishing his tail and turning his back to her. She inhaled through her nose and tightened her lips in agitation. Luckily for this ghoul, he actually carried some value to the church, so Imperator suppressed her desire to take the broomstick and smack him clear through the window.

The sister lowered her potential weapon and crossed her arms.

" _ Special _ ," she hissed, resentfully. She hated to acknowledge the nonsense nicknaming system these creatures had made up among themselves. It especially pained her to refer to this ghoul by his "name"; " Special"  was giving him far more credit than Imperator found him worthy of receiving. Particularly when he chose to behave like this.

Regardless, the Special ghoul peeked over his shoulder and down at her. "Yes, Sister?" he yawned, gracefully turning back over to face her and stretching. His claws lengthened as the stretch extended to his fingers. While she watched him prepare himself for conversation, Imperator wondered idly if she'd failed to notice that all ghouls could retract and extend their claws, or if that was a trait unique to this particular individual.

"Your Papa has summoned for you," Imperator said curtly, when Special seemed like he was ready to listen.

"What for?" Special swung his legs over the edge of his perch and tapped the heels of his shoes on the stone wall. Imperator looked ready to burst a blood vessel, at that point. Didn't take much to get on her nerves.

"I don't know 'what for', ghoul," she snapped back at him. "Now, go." She aimed to whack his ankles with the broom, but Special deftly drew his knees up and she missed. That must've been the end of her patience. She shot him a glare that could curdle milk and departed down the hallway. Special felt a chill of cool air swoop through in her wake.

"Spooky old bitch..." he mumbled to himself, dropping down onto the floor. The sound of his heels connecting with the stone ricocheted around the gloomy corridor.

Emeritus III had never summoned for Special before. He was drawing a blank on what could possibly be so important that Papa needed to speak with him directly. Had he said something he shouldn't have in an interview, recently? Based on what he knew of this Papa's personality, he probably wanted Special to spend more time talking about him. The two of them had never spent more than a few moments in the same room together, but that man's ego was usually present in the space before he himself walked through the door.

He had to ask some meandering ghouls for directions to find the entrance to Papa's chambers. His Unholiness was housed in the oldest, most mazelike part of the castle, where shadowy things—or maybe those were just rats—moved in one's peripheral vision and doors tended to disappear from and reappear on walls where they shouldn't, logically, even have been.

Special took a moment to check over himself before he entered. Best to look presentable the first time he spoke privately with Papa. Maybe he was about to be promoted to something more impressive than "PR Ghoul". He fluffed his hair, shined his grucifix, made sure his fascia was centered on his waist....time to do this.

The oversized door creaked with weight, opening ominously slow. Typical Papa—meeting him in his private chambers seemed designed to be as unnecessarily dramatic as possible. Stepping inside, Special found the place to resemble an apartment, with the foyer area in which he now stood branching off into other rooms. He'd never seen what these living quarters looked like when they'd been occupied by the previous Papas, but he could assume that Emeritus III had customized the space with his own personal style. It was very art deco and dubiously tasteful. A lot of bronze nudes.

Special took a guess at which door led to Papa's office, where he figured his pope would be waiting for him to discuss...whatever it was that he'd been summoned for. It definitely wasn't the huge, ornate door framed like a centerpiece at the end of the hall; that could only be the bedroom.

Lucky guess, it turned out, as he quietly let himself into the spacious room. Even Papa's office was grandiose, with luxurious carpet laid over the stone tile floor. The room was perfumed by incense and candles, which also provided the only source of light aside from a lamp on the desk. Papa sat behind it. He wasn't actually visible—his chair was turned with its back facing the door, and the thing was so obnoxiously oversized that he couldn't be seen, but Special could sense his presence in the room. 

"Papa," Special spoke. "You sent for me?"

The chair swivelled around to face him, and there he was: the anti-pope, fingers steepled and leg crossed politely. He was all made up in his facepaint and black suit. The previous Papas typically adopted a more casual style when they weren't on a stage. Did III just always dress like that?

"Ah, I was beginning to worry that you had gotten lost on the way here," Papa said, in that unplaceable accent of his. "But I am happy that you came to see me." 

He looked Special up and down for a moment that went on far too long. He didn't  _ look _ upset, but his predecessor was notoriously hard to read. Papa III wasn't half as intimidating as his brother, and Special wasn't easily shaken, but this silent visual inspection still put him on edge.

Finally, Papa smiled at him. That didn't do much to reassure him.

"You are a talented ghoul, no?" Papa stood from his chair and stepped around his desk, striding towards Special. He stood with his best posture and his arms straight at his sides, like a servant awaiting orders. Instinctive subservience; no ghoul could stand in front of their pope without the physical display of respect.

"Yes...?" What was the old man getting at?

"So confident!" Papa was circling him now, one hand behind his back. Being this close, Special noticed that the two of them were nearly the exact same height. The mitre really did make him look taller. "But not untrue. You must know that you were given your particular role because of your, eh...." He paused as he found the words, and in the space between speaking again, he curiously stroked his fingers over the ghoul's tail. Special fought back a shiver. "...eloquence."

Finishing his lap around him, Papa returned to his desk and hopped up to sit on it, crossing his legs daintily. "And I have heard rumors that an interview is not all that your mouth is good at giving."

Oh. Jesus Christ.

He smoothed back some dangling strands of hair and rested his chin on his fist, with some kind of goofy fucking grin on his face that made it clear exactly what the old pervert was thinking. Papa was a lot of things, but he definitely wasn't subtle.

"Did you call me in here just to suck your dick?"

It wasn't like Special was opposed to the idea, but he'd walked all the way here, gotten himself all psyched out,  _ and _ had his nap disturbed just because Papa Emeritus wanted a quickie.

"I've heard that you are particularly good at it, is all," Papa replied, raising his eyebrows and making a face like he was being accused of a crime. "The sisters...they love to gossip, you see, and they tell me that you have been, ah, 'caught in the act' with some of your clergy brothers. A lot. Many times. So, clearly, you are very popular."

Special broke eye contact with him to pick at his claws. He wasn't wrong. He  _ was _ damn good at sucking dick. It wasn't even like this was the first time he'd had a member of the church approach him just to ask for a blowjob. This was just the first time  _ Papa _ had asked him for one.

There were ghouls who'd probably give up a limb for a chance to touch Papa's dick. Special wasn't that bad, but still, deep down, he craved Papa's attention as much as anyone else. Something about the man was just so tempting, especially when he was sitting there running his hands through his hair, hip cocked and batting his eyes at him. If pre-church, pre-ghoul Special could see himself now, he'd find it disturbing how attracted he was to this weird old bastard.   
  
Alright. Fuck it. He'd give Papa what he was asking for. No...he'd give him more than that. He was gonna blow his fucking mind.   
  
"Of course, if you're not feeling up to this, you are free to leave—" Papa started, but the ghoul interrupted him, quickly closing in and shoving himself between his legs. Special went for his neck, his mouth, delicately nipping at him with his fangs. Some ghouls would be losing all self-control right now, cumming in their pants the second they got their hands on their pope, but Special knew his sense of restraint was what set him apart from his church brothers.   
  
His sudden enthusiasm drew amused growls from Papa, who spread his thighs to let him in closer. Special groped until he found his fly, grasping at the shape of his cock under the fabric—already getting hard. Either it’d been a while since the old man got any action, or he was  _ really _ keen on getting his dick in Special’s mouth.

Papa pulled a glove off with his teeth, then let his bare hand slink down Special’s back, stopping where his tail stuck out from under his cassock. He gripped it, massaging his thumb into the warm skin, and Special’s mouth left his neck to draw in a sharp breath.

“Not many ghouls have tails with fur,” Papa said. He stroked down its length, and, like it was acting separately from the ghoul it was attached to, it curled around his fingers. “And I have never seen a tail shaped quite like this...”

Special squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out how good the touch felt. Papa knew what he was doing. Special dropped abruptly to his knees, moving his tail out of Papa’s reach, and mouthed at him through his pants. An appreciative hum came from overhead, and Special took that as his cue to unzip his fly. He couldn’t say he was surprised to find that he wasn’t wearing anything under his slacks.

He stroked the length of his cock a few times before taking it in entirely, pressing his nose into pubic hair.

"Holy shit!” Papa laughed, “Someone is eager, eh?”

Special just hummed around him, letting his eyes flutter shut. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, letting the head pop from his lips with an obscene sound, then took the length in again.

"These horns of yours," Papa started again, prodding at the tip of one of them, "With the shape of your tail, they look like little cat ears." He spoke in such a casual, conversational tone, it betrayed how hard he was in Special's mouth at the moment. "Do you have a rough tongue, too, Special Ghoul?" 

Special answered his question wordlessly, dragging his black, forked tongue up along the underside of his cock. It wasn't rough, but it did have a texture to it: little bumps in the surface, a feature that was unique to him, as far as he knew. He teased at the slit with the point of his tongue. Papa breathed barely-audible "oh".   
  
"I...I guess you do," he said, the cockiness in his voice wavering only just enough for Special to detect it. He would’ve grinned in self-satisfaction if his mouth weren’t full.

Special kept working him, taking him into his throat, letting every wet, sloppy sound escape. The pope went quiet for a time, knitting his brow and biting his lip.

It seemed like the ghoul was gaining the upper hand, in this unannounced competition to see which of them lost his composure first...until Papa laid his hand gently between the horns he'd just been admiring and began to caress Special's head.

Ghouls were very touch-sensitive beings. The tail was an erogenous zone that could get the most stone-faced of ghouls squirming, and Special's head—specifically having his hair touched and pet—was just as sensitive and pleasurable to him as his tail. 

He had to keep it together. He was too proud to let Papa see him come undone from a tiny bit of physical affection.  

“Like a black cat,” Papa mused, petting and tugging his fingers through the spiked-up black hair. He took note of how Special seemed to tense up at his touch. He scratched lightly at the ghoul’s scalp and watched his shoulders relax again. “You remind me of Bastet. An Egyptian goddess…”

What the fuck was the old man going on about?

“...and a very popular one, at that. Cats were considered very sacred to the ancient Egyptians, you see.”

It was hard enough to focus with Papa massaging him, and now he was rambling about Egyptian deities. He picked up the pace of his sucking, hoping that would shut him up.

“She was a goddess of protection, but also of  _ fertility _ ,” he continued, punctuating his sentence with a gentle tug on Special’s hair. As hard as he fought it, Special couldn’t stop himself—his eyes rolled and he let out an undignified moan. Papa chuckled above him.

“Enjoying yourself down there, eh?”

Special tried his best to glare at him, but it was difficult to look pissed off with a dick in his mouth. Fuck, that hair-pulling felt good.

“Anyway, as I was saying...Bastet represented the playfulness of a cat, but also the ferocity of a lioness. I seem to recall that she was closely associated with, ah...Hathor, the cow goddess. Another goddess of fertility, in fact!”

Special had completely tuned out his prattling, at that point. A haze of arousal was falling over him, triggered entirely by Papa’s stroking. It frustrated him that he was slipping so easily, and that Papa, aside from the occasional grunt of pleasure, was retaining his composure. He was giving him a fucking history lesson while he got his dick sucked. But he couldn’t get enough of the bastard. He didn’t want to stop. Right now, he didn’t want Papa to ever take his hands off of him.

He couldn’t take much more of this petting before he broke. His motions were getting lazy, messy; he detached from his pope’s cock for a moment to breathe and a string of drool dribbled down his chin. As he went back down on him, his fangs grazed gingerly over flesh, and Papa gasped, abruptly grabbing a fistful of the ghoul’s hair.

That was it. Another wanton sound bubbled up from deep in Special’s throat, and Papa was about to learn exactly what it was that earned this ghoul the reputation he’d summoned him for in the first place.

Special started purring.

_ “Cazzo _ !” Papa pulled his hands away, jolted by the sensation. “O-oh, fuck, Special, you—”

His hands tentatively returned to Special’s head, this time as if to brace himself. Holy shit. Purring. This ghoul could purr. And it felt fantastic.

There wasn’t a chance in Hell at him stopping himself from again taking a fistful of hair, his other hand wrapped around a horn, and pulling Special in so close his face was pressing into his pelvis. He was buried as deep in the ghoul’s throat as he could go, and Special swallowed him effortlessly, the warmth and wetness contracting around him.

His jaw went slack and his eyes clenched shut as he fucked the ghoul’s throat. Special had totally lost himself, now, digging his claws into Papa’s thighs and letting himself be used. His ghoulish instincts were taking over, and all he could think about was Papa; Papa’s hands, his cock, his scent, his taste, his senses overloaded and his mind and body focused solely on pleasing his pope.

It was a shame he was missing out on finally shutting him up. Papa’s thrusting became erratic, his breath ragged, and he knew he was at his end.

“Fuck, I’m—” was all he managed to choke out. He quickly pulled Special away before he came, hissing through clenched teeth. Cum landed on the ghoul’s face in thick ropes, and Papa let his head fall back while he rode out his orgasm. When he came back down and the blood stopped rushing in his ears, he looked down at his ghoul, and broke into wheezy laughter.

He’d seen this expression on so many ghouls before: Special’s eyes were half-lidded, pupils dilated to a point that his irises were scarcely visible. A deep flush had spread over his cum-splattered face and his hair was tousled into a mess. He stared up at Papa dumbly, lips parted and still purring. Papa knew without seeing that he was uncomfortably hard in his pants. He was practically high on arousal. 

It would be ungentlemanly of him to leave this poor ghoul hanging, so he guided him to his feet, producing a handkerchief from the pocket of his suit to clean him up—as beautiful as he looked with his face covered in such a mess.

“Papa…” Special slurred, his voice hoarse, as he was led to switch positions, Papa’s hands instructing him to lay back on the desk. Papa shushed him and began working on getting him out of his cassock when there was a knock at the door and someone barged in.

“Your Unholiness, did that good-for-nothing ghoul ever show up?” Imperator barked as she burst through the door. “I sent him in here ages ag—oh, Lucifer!”

Papa didn’t bother to turn to face her. He continued working on the buttons of Special’s cassock, leaving little affectionate kisses on every new section of exposed skin. “Yes, he did. He is still here, in fact. Now leave us, will you please?”

Imperator hastily fled the room, slamming the door behind her. She should’ve brought the broom. 


End file.
